always fleeting
by whizz
Summary: kubota/tokito; if the day comes, i will without hesitation put that bullet where your heart is - because i have always been entitled to it.


**anime/manga; **Wild Adapter  
**pairing; **Kubota/Tokito  
**warnings; **boy/boy, guns  
**disclaimer; **I do not own Wild Adapter nor the characters used.

i**i**i.

Kubota cracks his blurry-lined eyes open after an amount of sleep consisting of at least three hours, and the first sight granting him is the business end of his own goddamn gun.

He reaches out, lazily putting his hand on top of his room mate's closed grip, and hears the sharp intake of breath while the muscles in Tokito's arm jump.

Kubota visibly relaxes, the dreary haziness still tugging at the edges of his vision considering he is not wearing glasses. There is a moment of silence as blank, dark eyes capture vivid lilac ones, wide and alert.

"Tokito", he breathes, voice calm as ever - nevermind the fact that his stray is straddling him, thigs on either side of the older one's hips and fingers tightly wound around the latest gun he bought from Kou, lips pale and gaze wild, the barrel still pointed at the spot between Kubota's eyebrows.

The shorter of the two is about to say something, trembling tongue reaching to wet cracked, shuddering lips. His mouth fuses open and closed to force it out, before firmly shutting, eyes desperately searching for something in Kubota's unmoving features.

Kubota slides gunpowder-scented fingers down Tokito's arm, feeling him quiver against his body. He closes his own palm over his room mate's, caressing the other's trigger finger almost tenderly.

"Do it", he utters in his usual dispassionate tone, as if the demand was as casual as the current weather.

Tokito's eye brows knit together at that, and he averts his gaze with calculated need, not daring to think about the implications that come with the other's unconditional display of trust, before leaning over, forcing them into close proximity, so close he is cheek-to-steel with the chilling gun.

"I need.. I need you to do something for me", whispers the stray, and fails to not get lost in the other's bottomless eyes.

"Sure", Kubota replies easily, not fazed at all by the situation, hand still closed around Tokito's and the other one moving to rest on his cat's bony knee.

The boy swallows thickly, lets his gaze sweep across Kubota's lips.

"Kill me", he announces breathlessly, twin orbs of swirling purple hard and determined.

There is that fraction of a second when Kubota's eyes widen ever-so-little in a slightly uncharacteristic way, lips twitching once. Upon receiving no answer, Tokito smiles, moves the gun into a position that leaves it pointing up at the other man's throat, skin meeting steel so that he can rest his forehead against the other's damp bangs.

"I trust you enough to do it. See, I.. the dreams, they won't stop. Lately, it's a lot worse. And my hand's been hurting so much and when it happens.. I can't see. I can't think. I'm afraid I'm going insane with each passing day, Kubo-chan. That's why, Kubo-chan, it has to be you. You have to put an end to this before I lose myself completely and hurt.. someone."

(_you._)

Kubota watches the sun of which his personal galaxy edged with deliveries, the yakuza and streets that smell of waste revolves around, and he lets his eyes tiredly slip shut. Breathing pattern even, not as much as a muscle moving, one might as well proclaim him asleep.

At last, he meets once again the gaze of his stray, and this time, he is certain there isn't a single emotion slithering through his indifferent facade. Kubota pushes against the other, raising himself into a sitting position as Tokito slowly obliges, not moving the weapon an inch and slipping his free hand down the front of Kubota's naked chest - leaves it resting against where the other's steady heartbeat vibrates through, meets the cold eyes opposite of him with serious ones.

"You want me to kill you, Tokito?" he asks in a low monotone. Grabbing the other's good hand once again he pries thin fingers from the handle, and doesn't bother with checking the safety or whether or not the gun is really loaded - Tokito is not fooling around, he knows.

The boy proves this once again by nodding compulsively, not once breaking eye contact.

"I would rather it would be you, here, like this - while I'm still sane and partially safe", he mutters.

(_Like this, when I can still appreciate the feel of your skin and the scent of curry and smoke and the sight of a shared life on display - video games, magazines, coffee stains and a mountain of dirty dishes. Like this._)__

Something flashes for half a second within the concrete pits of Kubota's eyes and he firmly pushes the boy off the bed with a strong hold around his bicep, forcing him to stumble around until his back hits the closest wall, grip still applying brutal force and Tokito's eyes focused on the gun in his face.

He smiles and it's beautiful, and when he looks up he is met with frigid blankness.

"You'll get over it, Kubo-chan", he whispers reassuringly, hands gripping the older man's back, for once not caring about the claws of his abnormal hand sinking into hot skin.

Kubota doesn't reply, but presses tightly against the smaller body, forcing the barrel against the other's lips. __

There is no confusion in the whirlpool of unnaturally bright eyes, merely a trust so sincere it is almost chilling. Tokito doesn't even blink as he carefully slides plump lips apart, accepting the cold firmness of the handgun now applying pressure on his tongue.

Kubota observes quietly, eyes completely drained of all emotion, lips merely a thin line. Almost mechanically, he pushes their hips together, drags long fingers along the hem of Tokito's jeans, always a bit too big in the waist, and pushes in beneath the oversized t-shirt to feel the tightening of abs under smooth skin.

The younger boy's head hits the wall, chin tipped upwards and eyes heavy with unfocused feelings, and Kubota forces the gun further into the hot cavern of Tokito's mouth, watches his nostrils flare without saying a word.

Tokito's speaking now, or trying to, mouth moving around firm steel, muffled sounds rumbling from his slender and much too exposed throat. Kubota doesn't as much as twitch, effortlessly switching grip on the gun and retrieving his hand lingering on a sharp hip bone to caress down the other's cheek, bodies touching so intimately they might as well be one person.

"Are you sure this is what you want?" he asks, his movements casual but undeniably brutal, and Tokito's breath hitches jumpily as he tries to dip his head even further back, the gun he knows is a 9x19mm Grandpowder K100 because Kubo-chan told him so once upon a lifetime sloping deeper down his throat. Kubota draws closer, licking along the outer shell of his ear lobe, breathing regularly across flushed skin.

Even so, Tokito refuses to let his eyes flutter shut even for half a second - applying more intensity into his gaze, he turns to stare back up at the only person his life has been dancing around ever since waking up in an unfamiliar bed with a too-big shirt on, and he only clutches at the man's shoulder blades firmly before nodding once more.

Kubota then sighs, eyes still dead and dark, as he drinks in the masterpiece-comparable sight of Tokito, fair skin flushed and gaze burning with determination, the gun connected to Kubota's fingers shoved between plush lips where a dot of saliva has gathered - and then, he promptly removes the weapon to lick it away.

"Kubo-chan..? What are you-"

The taller of the two cuts the stray off by removing the magazine from the gun before cocking the slide of it back with habitual moves, not once tearing his gaze off of Tokito's bewildered features as he hears the firm clank of the bullet hitting the floor.

Next, he completely shatters the distance between them, slamming his body onto the smaller one, ignoring the solidness of the wall hitting his cat's back - he's sure Tokito can handle it - before connecting their mouths hungrily, for once taking action in a behaviour that could never be called apathetic, palms flat against the wall on either side of Tokito's head and the familiar rumbling sound Kubota would enjoy calling an almost-mewl rips free from the younger one and it's all so very abstract, morning sun seeping in through the small window and Kubota's many cigarette butts in the ash tray on the bedside table.

"Do you really think me capable of doing that, Tokito?" Kubota wonders calmly, mouth a mere breath away from the other's. "You should know better."

Tokito watches wordlessly as his room mate stalks off with that - he even has the indecency to lazily stretch his arms, the muscles of his back rolling at the motion - and if Toktio is tongue-tied, it is merely vivid fantasy.

"Kubo-chan, you.. you can't just-! I'm serious, you know! Kubo-chan!" he rushes after the other, only halting to spare the lone bullet on the ground a quick glance.

"What would you like for breakfast, Tokito? I think we have some curry left.."

And, suddenly, there are no strange drugs or ruthless gangster-members getting tired of waiting. There are no nightmares and memories flashing in a greyscale so blurry it would be skull-splitting trying to discern the truth behind brief shadows. There are no threats, no balancing on a hair-strand thin line trying to dodge untouchable yakuza-leaders with clear interest in making their lives hell unless they get what they want. There are no feelings of anxiety, fear or the sound of hope taking its last breath.

All that is - really _is, _here and now, Tokito figures, is the comforting buzzing of the coffee machine, the bleached wood of the kitchen door and his (room mate, friend, life saver, murderer) Kubo-chan standing in the center of the room, the scarred skin of his nude back and the slightly ruffled state of his hair, and nothing has ever felt so perfect. Still..

"You can't have curry for breakfast, stupid. We ate it as lunch _and _dinner yesterday, remember?"

"Hm. True. Well, then, what of.."

"Kubo-chan, don't you think-", Tokito speaks up again, cutting the other off, because - well, because, although things have always been too easy to leave unsaid between the two, this is slightly unnerving since he isn't completely sure of the decision they have reached, and-

"Tokito. If the day comes when you truly lose your ability to think straight, I will without hesitation put that bullet where your heart is if that is what you want me to do", Kubota retorts, turning to catch the other's gaze; voice still ever-calm, but his eyes, for once, resembling the stormy depths of the rotting water that Tokito has tasted the essence of just outside Yokohama's port not too long ago. "For now, though.. let's eat."

-and, everything makes so much sense he can almost see the world slowly spinning, bound by the laws of all that is natural.

Tokito steps closer to the man, back straight, and he moans a little about Kubota's attempts to tempt him with instant soup for breakfast, but the smile playing on the corners of his lips is very spontaneous and very real.

He doesn't and will not ask about the bullet Kubota has placed beneath the worn mattress of their shared and much too narrow bed when the colorless night comes to cover the endless Yokohama-sky.

i**i**i.

**A/N; **ahh, i am completely in love with these two. never have i witnessed a pairing with such dynamic chemistry - and they still haven't even done anything to indicate they are in a romantic relationship! which is what leaves me craving for more.. it's a shame the manga hasn't been updated for a while.. anyway. i hope you like this little piece. 


End file.
